


A Bastard And A Royal

by CrazyScribbles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gender Bender, Joffrey born as a female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23265505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyScribbles/pseuds/CrazyScribbles
Summary: When her whole identity shatters, Joanna struggles to choose right from the wrong, as she knows herself to be in the wrong. The conflict in her head only pushes her to a paranoia until she meets a bastard in Winterfell. In another world, in another life, she would have hated him. But in this life she fell for him. How could love change her life? Fem!Joffrey
Relationships: Joffrey Baratheon/Jon Snow, Jon Snow/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 55





	1. Princess Joanna Baratheon

The chirping noises of little birds near the window along with a ray of blood-red sunbeam falling on her crescent-shaped face gave unsettling disturbance to her slumber, and she woke up throwing the quilts away from her body.

“Jeyne…” Joanna screamed, calling her bed-maid who slept like a royal in her own bed. “Wake up, you stupid girl.” She had to push her hand-maid out from the bed and see her arse landing on the carpet to wake the sleepy head.

Joanna had no inkling of likeness to the insipid creature, but her Queen Mother insisted on taking the girl as a companion.

“Joa-” Joanna’s eyes flamed, unable to believe the creature would even think itself to call a royal by her name. “Sorry, my Princess. What is the problem?”

“Problem?” She screeched, unable to believe the thing had no insight into the issue at hand. “Can’t you hear to those noises? Go… Go and find one of the royal guards, before I burn your wretched hair.”

“But… The Kings guards will not…”

When Joanna rose up and walked towards the Westerling girl, she twisted her ear and said, “Learn… Find your ways to make things work with what you have. That is your duty.” When the girl jumped as though hot water was poured into her leg, she relaxed her arm, unable to believe her mother bought the waste trash all the way from Westerlands.

Once the girl ran out in search of finding the royal guard, she decided to put an end to that idea of ever sharing a bed with another scum lower than her status.

Even though she was close to see only ten name days, when Joanna stood in front of the mirror, coming just out from bed, she could see the enigmatic beauty that resembled close to her Queen Mother. With the golden curls that shone for the sunrise and with her plump pout lips, she considered herself to be even more beautiful than the Queen herself.

Myrcella was merely a poor copy of Joanna, like a half-cooked meal. And Tommen… Oh… That boy. She prayed for the Stranger to give him an easy death, so the realm would soon come to her hands as the sole heir to the Demon of the Trident, King Robert Baratheon. Tommen wouldn’t live longer, though. The boy was weak and cried for every ant that died when he walked. What kind of King would he become after Father?

It was Ser Barristen Selmy who ran towards her, unsheathing his sword in panic. Joanna shifted her eyes at the Westerling bitch who had her clothes torn, and she easily guessed how the girl made the royal guard to come for Jo’s service.

“My Princess… Please come to my side.” Ser Barristen offered his arm, gallant as ever and Jo had to roll her eyes.

“Relax, Ser. There are no intruders in my chambers. Don’t you try to add any shame to my name.” She chided silently at the stupid Jeyne for thinking, acting as a harmed maid might get the royal guard’s attention sooner.

When Ser Barristen’s lips quivered hearing the insult, Joanna realized she played him too much. “I would never, my Princess. The lady said…”

“I must apologize, Ser.” Her swaying hips took her close to the white guard, who she despised the most. While almost all men in the Kingsguard gave a second glance when she walked by, save for her uncle Ser Jaime and Ser Barristen. Wouldn’t the old man have blood running in his cock? She wanted to test it, and sincerely she latched her fingers in his. “My friend is a simpleton. And sometimes at night, she dreams of wild things and tears her dress like this.” She fluttered her eyelashes and tried to wipe a few unshed tears.

The old man turned to see that stupid creature and realizing Joanna’s wrath, the girl bent her head, nodding as expected. When Joanna’s fingers brushed against Ser Barristan’s fingers, the man turned towards her in a shocked glare. It was getting boring, and the man was not praising her like how Ser Meryn Trant would shower glory of her beauty or like Ser Mandon Moore, who had nothing but gallant curtsies. The game with the old man was simply boring.

“But you insulted me, Ser. What if men learn there was an intruder in my chamber and stole my maidenhead, even when there was none?” She defiantly raised her brows and the old guard started apologizing honestly with all his heart, which only became another boring session for her. “The least you could do for all the damages you did is to kill all those rattling birds near my window.”

“Birds…? You want me to kill them?” Ser Barristen asked in surprise.

“You see, my little Jeyne gets the horrible dreams only when they sing the song. It will serve as a good meal for the poor in the streets tonight. Wouldn’t you help your princess?” Joanna asked politely, wounding her arm around Jeyne’s body and the guard had no words to refuse, before he quietly walked near the window, and slashed the throat of five little creatures, while the rest five flew away.

The blood oozed out from their neck and dripped down to the wall, giving her a moment of satisfaction and her eyes glued on to the dripping blood, before sensing the royal white cloak servant whispering something unintelligible. She waved her hand, dismissing the guard, before entering into her bath chamber, and asked for Jeyne to clean her smooth skin, till her mind came out from the blood that spilled.

Joanna Baratheon’s tenth nameday was a celebration that gave competition to her imbecile of a brother’s first nameday, to whom both her father’s and mother’s attention turned to, for the last five years. It was said that her father had celebrated Joanna’s arrival to the world by ringing the bells of King’s Landing for a whole week and threw a tourney in her name, that made the realm look forward to a prosperous future.

And during her initial days in court, Joanna often looked up to her Queen Mother, next to her father. She had dreamed several days to grow up with her Mother’s beauty, along with her father’s charisma to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Joanna was named the heir to the throne by King Robert Baratheon himself when Myrcella was born, and all the joy even doubled.

The minstrels from all the Seven Kingdoms wrote songs about her beauty, and she considered herself to be Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, who was named as heir by her sire. Everything went too perfect until that little monster came out of her mother’s womb with a little stick between its leg and stole everything from Joanna.

Tommen did not just steal her crown, but her mother’s love and her father’s attention. She was no more the heir; they said, and she had screamed for Seven days to the Seven Gods to give her position back even as a five-year-old babe. All she received was five finger marks on her cheeks by her King Father, who said to Queen Cersei, “This thing always cries when I lift it in my arms ever since a babe. Make it stop, woman. Else I will have to…”

It didn’t make any sense when her mother cooed her that night and explained how the crown always went to a man. And she argued the whole night till her uncle Jaime came to take her away for the night, telling tales of monstrous Kings who wanted to blow up the whole world just because they didn’t want it to be given to others. He even went ahead to advise her to understand the prospect of acceptance.

“Isn’t that a wonderful notion, Ser Jaime? If I have that power, I will kill everyone in this wretched city, so Tommen can never take what’s mine.” She responded and her uncle chuckled at that time like she was a fool.

If anyone was a fool, it would be her uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister. There was no reason for doubt in that. Who would give up Casterly Rock just so the King could be protected? And what a wonderful job he did the last time.

Mocking that thought of how her grandfather managed to produce only a fool and a dwarf for sons, while he forgot her Queen Mother’s glory, Joanna thought something vicious, as she picked the roasted lamb from the meals served in the celebration.

“Mother…” She called dearly, adjusting her crimson gown. “Do you think I can take Casterly Rock in your name?”

Joanna had to explore her choices, realizing how in a few name days her father would send her away to some lickspittle lord’s castle to bear children for some low-level lords. She wouldn’t go for any lesser men.

“Jo, what have we said about not speaking about the issues of inheritance during a gathering?” Her mother chided, carefully letting out a smile to hide the anger.

“You refused me the throne. And will you not even speak about which house I can get?” She almost screamed before a handsome boy almost resembling her uncle Jaime Lannister offered his arms.

“My Princess… Will you do the honor of sharing a dance with me?”

Lancel… The little moron who she’d despised to the heart. Had it been Ser Jaime who never took a white cloak, she would have gladly married him and would’ve given him a dozen children to secure her place in Casterly Rock. Her dwarf uncle was a jape to everyone’s eyes, and even if her father rewarded her with a thousand slaps, she would never spread her legs for that monster. And then there was this thing… Lancel Lannister, a very poor image of her uncle, just like Myrcella for Joanna, who was trying to gain Joanna’s favor.

Smiling politely like how her Septa Saranella taught to behave, she accepted his arm in one hand while her other hand gathered her skirt. Walking towards the center of the hall, when every lickspittles mouth was sewed tight looking at her glorious beauty, she danced elegantly, her legs tapping in rhythm and her hip-swaying for each beat from the musician.

When everyone roared a thunderous clap, and she decided to retire to her seat, her other uncle, Renly Baratheon, offered his arm. Her glee only tripled seeing his advance. While her one plot was to settle for Casterly Rock, her main plot was to get married to her uncle Renly and take the seat of her father’s house, Storm’s End, that would forever let her keep the Baratheon name, just as she was born.

And to add a crown to that prospect, her uncle was the closely resembling man to her father in looks. He even had a very decent dressing etiquettes and better table manners than her father. Who knew what could happen if Tommen accidentally died in a horse ride? If she was married to Renly Baratheon, then they both could rule the Seven Kingdoms, just like her mother and father. It would be perfect.

“You have grown up, niece, and the feast seems to only glow with more glory of your beauty,” Renly commented, making Joanna blush like a shy maid.

“Thank you, uncle. Do you think you have time to spend with me on the morrow? We could go-“

“Oh, no… I am sorry, Joanna. I have promised to take my friends from Highgarden out for a visit to the silk street.” He denied, and she had to fake a smile before bursting out a curse. She wouldn’t beg him, though.

The whole evening went in a flash of a second, during which she had to hear Tommen crying thrice to stop the music from the singers, and Myrcella wet her dress by pouring wine all over her dress. They were royals but except for Joanna, everyone behaved like little imbeciles.

“Stop that wailing noise, woman!!! Do you see me having tits to soothe that boy? Take him away and leave us to enjoy…” Her father roared as he slapped a serving wench’s behind before pulling her into his lap. Joanna’s cheeks flared seeing her mother scurry her skirt to pick up Tommen and leave the Hall. That was unfair. She loved her father, and she always admired him. But how could he seek a lowborn in front of all the guests over her own beautiful mother?

“Father… Perhaps it’s time to retire for all of us.” Her voice came so soothingly, trying to coerce him, as she did with other men.

“And who do you think you are to order me?” He bellowed, thrusting his hand on the table, calling for the attention of the crowd.

“I am your daughter. Your firstborn child. And this is my nameday… Let us wrap up the feast.”

“And I am the King, girl. I decide when to begin and when to end.” He roared before burying his face into the tits of the scullery maid in his lap, who gave a mocking smile to Joanna’s face. Joanna prepared to remember the face of that ignorant thing that didn’t know its place, before she ran out from the Great Hall, unable to let the lickspittles to see her crying face.


	2. Unveiled Truths

Joanna’s long beaten gold curls wove down till her waist, and she pulled that heavy long hair to the front, hearing to the boring chanting of the Septa Saranella, who was preaching herself and Myrcella the blessings to be taken from the Maiden and importance of high-born ladies to save their maidenhead for their future husbands which should be given as an ultimate gift. Jo had no great respect for the Septa, who often thought herself to be God’s own messenger. The woman was delusional and often ranted about olden days when Targaryen Kings sent their Princesses to become one among her.

 _Only a stupid Princess would do that._ Thinking of which Jo turned to Myrcella who had kept her folded hand on her lap, imitating Joanna.

“Myr!” Jo called once the Septa left them to read the prayers. “There is truth behind our good Septa’s words. Even the Gods want to keep a few Princesses in their possession.”

“Oh, really? I always thought you never believed what our Septa said.”

Jo never understood why the girl always followed her wherever she went and repeated everything she said. At times, she just wanted to throw the girl from some top tower to have freedom of her own. But Myrcella was her sister and there was this thing of getting kinslaying curse. So, she simply bore it some times. After all, Myr could never take her Jo’s place. So, what was the point in bothering, but that didn’t mean she liked everything that girl did.

Her sister had been braiding her hair, copying Jo’s style, and stitching gowns in Jo’s pattern. Disturbing comments such as even Myrcella was looking beautiful were getting lately spread in the Red Keep and Jo hated competition even if it was not true.

“Yes, sister. A King needs only one perfect beautiful Princess and a warrior crown Prince. All the other could be given to the Gods, so the Gods will bless the King to have a prosperous rule.”

“Oh. Thank you, sister. I will remember your lesson.” Myr said obediently, and Jo wanted to yell at her stupid sister for being a nut-head.

“What I mean is sister…” Jo began but Myrcella took her arm in hers and gave a sympathetic look.

“Our mother will be distraught to learn that you will take the Faith, Jo. So, please don’t think of taking a white robe.”

“What?” Jo gave a disgusted frown, pulling her hand away. “You imbecile!!! How dare you think I should take the white robe. I was the heir to the throne once and the perfect-“

“You are more beautiful than me, I agree.” Myrcella cut her off. “But I am better than you in stitching, singing, and soon I may get better at dancing like you. You don’t even remember the sigils and their words or the lands and their resources. Even the Septa and the Maester has said the same. So, if we go for perfection-“

Jo gave a slap to her sister, who spoke out of her line and drilled her eyes down upon the girl. “You can’t speak to your elders that way. Sit and stitch, you simple fool. Dressing like me and braiding like me will not make you to become me. I am the Princess. I am Joanna Baratheon. _Remember!_ “

Myrcella’s nose flared, and she seemed to get agitated, which only gave some fear to Jo. The girl was mad and silly. Gathering the skirt in her palms, Jo hurried towards her chamber, her heart weighing down in sadness of Myr’s word entering her head.

Of course, Jo couldn’t read easily as a child. The words always confused her. They were twisted and jumbled to her eyes. So, reading and memorizing the sigils gave lengths of pain to her. But that didn’t mean she was imperfect. Did King Robert Baratheon remember all the Lords’ sigils and their words whenever they came for asking a favor in court? Her father was a King because he wielded a war hammer and shoved it right on the dragon Prince’s chest.

Her perfection was in becoming like her father, the Demon of the Trident. Not in remembering unwanted names of the lower lords’ words. Jo sat on her chair with a long face, reminiscing about the time when she used to hear her father’s loud laughter as he japed with the knights and warriors around, telling tales of war.

She was a little girl, then, but as she was his heir at that time, and he’d asked her to accompany him to the court, whenever he occasionally sat on the Iron Throne for giving judgments and she’d poured wine to his cup, during the feasts, which was the only thing that made him to be merrier than ever. She remembered how he used to demand her to bring black strong ale over the arbor gold, slapping his round belly. Had any man been stronger, happier, and powerful like her father?

Jo could have been the strongest and mightiest warrior just like her father, if that stupid Tommen never came out or if she was born with a cock. Would Tommen be ever able to rule? Who would come to a whining King? Slapping Myrcella felt oddly wrong, but the girl should know how to speak. Father would have broken the girl’s tooth if she’d dared to speak to him the same way as she spoke to Jo. As the firstborn of the royal house, it was her duty to teach her siblings some harsh lessons, so they would become better Prince and Princess. Although they would never come on par with Jo, she had to do the duty to her house.

So, she went to Tommen’s play chamber to see how well he was training. Her nose scrunched up and her mouth frowned, seeing him chase a fawn in his chamber.

“Aren’t you supposed to train with a wooden sword?” She asked, crossing her hands across her chest.

“Sister…” The boy squealed, his eyes already starting to wet. “Ser Aron said my training was over.”

“And how many hours did you train?” The boy simply looked to the ground, staring at his tiny feet. “Did you even lift the stick?” He shook his head, and she had to sigh out loud. He was fat, plump, and was already huffing after chasing a tiny fawn. This thing would never become a King Robert. “Tom, you cannot be like this. Look at father. How strong he is and how weak you are. Your arse will tear if you ever sit on the Iron Throne. If you can’t-“

“My hands bled when the wood chunk pierced.” He sobbed, showing the few dried blood drops on his thick round fingers. “How will I lift a sword when my hand bleeds?”

“You are such a craven!” She spat in disgust. “I don’t even know why the Gods sent you to be the heir. Bite the pain and swing your sword. If you squeal for every drop-“

“ _You don’t know that!_ And I am no craven. I will be King one day. Mother said everyone will bow before my strength and I can have anything I wished.” He sniffed his nose and glared at her with furrowed brows. “I can fight even the Mountain that Rides and defeat the dragon Prince once again if he ever emerged out.”

Jo caught the little thing that Tommen was chasing and took it to him. “Prove it, then. Show your strength, like our father.” She shoved that dotted animal to his hand, and he blinked like a fool. “When Father goes for a hunt, he always makes sure to bring the skin of the animal he takes. If you really are strong, then skin this dotted thing and prove.” She went out to get the knife from Ser Jacelyn, who seemed to be overly resisting to hand over the sharp blade.

When she shoved both the blade and the fawn into Tommen’s hand, standing tall in pride, he stared up at her a few times, his emerald eyes cowering in fear.

“But this is my pet. I can’t kill it.” He whimpered like a girl. She thought of leaving the stupid boy who should have been born as a girl to his devices, but the idea of skinning the fawn excited her.

If she could skin and take it to her father, would he understand that she was more capable than her brother? Her father always admired braveness. He loved hunting, and he loved battles. The thought took root in her head and she plucked both the knife and the fawn from her fat, whiny brother. It was her responsibility to teach him the power of courage and her blood already pumped seeing the animal in hand. _Oh!! How she longed to see blood._

“Princess…” Ser Jacelyn entered the chamber with a worried face and she glared at him.

“I am teaching my brother a lesson. Make sure he doesn’t disturb.” She warned and the man simply huffed annoyingly before holding Tommen, who was still asking what was happening. The boy was dumb too. Placing the jumping fawn on the nearby ironwood table, she carefully made the steel to kiss its skin from neck to tail, and when the blood oozed out, she felt her world still. It drenched all over her pale fingers, warming her skin, and dripped down to the carpet. And for the first time, she felt powerful. She understood why men chanted glory about killing. There was tremendous power to hold a life at a knife’s point.

When the animal’s legs kicked in air, suffering, and struggling, she imagined herself to be Robert Baratheon shoving the largest war hammer into a squalling Prince. This should have how her father must have felt while taking a life. Her ears were deaf enough to dull her brother’s loud wails, and the man took her imbecile of a brother out when she started skinning the dotted fawn, alive.

With bloody hands, bloody green dress, she held the soft dotted skin and took it to her father’s solar in pride and joy. He would rejoice, she knew, and might even throw a feast to celebrate her first kill.

“Jo! What happened? Did someone hurt you?” Ser Jaime held her arms with his shaking fingers and stared at her gleeful smile, before looking down at the dead fawn-skin.

“I turned out to be a Warrior, not a Maiden, uncle Jaime. Announce my entry. I want to see my father.”

“No, no, no… You can’t. What have you done?” He was disturbing her, and she simply shoved his hand, entering the chamber where his father was sitting with uncle Renly, uncle Stannis, the hand Jon Arryn, and the spymaster Varys. She was almost close to see her uncle Stannis’s shit eaten face, the same way how it soured when she took his position as heir once. How would it turn when King Robert announced her to be the heir again?

“Father!” She called unable to wait and King Robert’s face suddenly changed seeing her bloody clothes. “Oh, no. You are mistaken. This is not my blood, but of the animal that I hunted and skinned while it was alive.”

“What are you blubbering, girl? Where are your guards and where the hell did you go for hunting?”

His eyes went to the little skin she held, and she took feeble steps to reach him. “In the castle itself. There was this fawn with little Tommen and I sliced the skin with the knife from its throat to tail, just like you did with the Dragon Prince. Do you like it?”

Her father’s mouth parted open, and he turned back to his council, who whispered something unintelligible. He stared at her with a twisting glare, red-faced, beard quivering, before he gave a strong slap that made her roll and fall to the floor.

Her cheeks ached and flared red while tears rolled down her pale skin, unable to understand why would he choose to hurt her, and not recognize her valiant act.

“ _Seven bloody hells!!!_ I can’t believe you are born of my seed. Runaway before I break your legs. What has your mother been teaching you? To torture a little boy’s pet?” He screamed, and just when she rose up to her feet, Queen Cersei hurried into the chamber with uncle Jaime behind. All the council started disappearing, and she held her shaking jaw that was shivering in pain, unable to believe she was not considered brave. Why?

“How dare you raise your hand on our daughter?” Queen Cersei seethed, pulling Jo into her arms, and King Robert slammed his fist on the table before.

“Take her away before I break her legs. What have you made her to be? I am glad the boy is not like her and if she ever does this again, I will send her to the Sept to become a Septa.”

“You think you can get away with this, Robert?” Her mother seethed while uncle Jaime pulled her arm towards the door and she started wailing, unable to believe her father didn’t like this. It should be because she wasn’t born a boy. “You raise your hand one more time to my daughter and I will break yours.”

She heard faint whispers of their quarrel when uncle Jaime raised her chin to face him. “I wanted to be like him. I thought he will like it.” She sobbed, but her uncle seemed to look more confused than understanding.

“This is not hunting, Jo.”

“Why?”

“Because you killed a poor creature that was in Tommen’s care.”

“How does it matter? You killed so many men and Father killed so many men. If what you did is right, then mine is right too.” She said loudly, screaming when he pulled her to his chest.

“My sweet girl!” He cooed her like a baby and she hated him for thinking her someone lower to be consoled. Jaime was not her father to console her. She simply shoved his hand and ran to her chambers, hoping at least King Robert would come to check on her that night. As usual, he never visited, and she went into bruised sleep that night. But the next day morning, someone came to her with teeth full of smile, and that was the stupid Jeyne.

“Did you get the proof?” Joanna asked in a dull voice, her thoughts still laying heavy of the previous day as she applied the fragrant paste to cover the bruise on her cheek. Her half-witted friend opened the pouch that had four teeth, and a small satisfaction came to Jo’s face. “Did you see if it was hers?”

“I was there when the man shaved her head and sent her on the slaver’s ship. I even saw the ship leaving, Princess. And you should have seen her toothless wails.”

“Ah… I don’t want to imagine. But I am glad to teach that whore a lesson. How dare did she smile at me during the feast!!!” Jo lifted the pouch in her fingers and finally felt proud of teaching a lowborn woman, who thought she could climb the ladder by sleeping with the King. At least, she could make her mother happy now. “My mother will be proud of me. I am going to surprise her.”

“Shall I join too?” The dumb Westerling asked, and Joanna nodded.

They waited in her mother’s solar, but the Queen was not coming for a longer time. Jo and Jeyne spent their time inside her mother’s bed-chamber applying newly arrived scent from Lys that had the fragrance of mixed variety oils of exotic flowers and animals. Finally, when she heard noises, Jo thought of giving a surprise and they both hid inside her mother’s wardrobe.

“That brute dared to lift a hand on my girl, Jaime.” Her mother said, and Jo felt sad about thinking that her mother was still reliving that moment. The pranking felt useless in that sadness and she tried to come out of the locked wooden door when she heard her mother say, “Our girl. Our first-born. The fruit of our union.”

Jo’s hand froze in that same place, and she stopped Jeyne’s hand that was about to touch the wooden door.

“Jo has some issues, Cersei.” Uncle Jaime said when she picked her head above to peep into that tiny hole. “The girl is…”

“She is perfect, just like Myrcella and Tommen. It is all Robert’s fault. She just wanted to gain her father’s favor. Tommen’s birth took away something from her. She did nothing wrong.” Her mother screamed.

“I don’t care about anyone, woman. Come to me, now, before your King husband returns from the woods.” Jaime said before planting a kiss on her mother, and she heard the moans from inside the door. Her hands froze, freezing at the time that flew by. And her eyes glued to the twins before who looked identical until they became naked. The man began thrusting into her mother’s cunt, whispering curses, and her heart almost stopped beating.

No… This could not be true. She should be dreaming. Her Queen mother was perfect, and she wouldn’t do this. Her uncle must be forcing her.

“Come into me, Jaime. Ah… Oh, my beautiful brother. My other half!!! Give me another son. I want that drunken whoremonger horned.”

Jo’s lids had shut close when the whole world went crashing and she held something so hard and tight to forget the truth. Minutes became hours and late at night when a few fingers latched her arm, Jo woke up to see the darkness in which she was thrown into.

“My Princess!!!” Jeyne called. “Time to go to bed.”


End file.
